A House Leap
by LANIKI
Summary: Greg House has been expelled from med school -- for the second time. Guess he'll never be a doctor. But he doesn't know that Sam Beckett is about to get involved. No slash, House/OFC. Written for Fox Board's Friday Night O/C Challenge. M for sex/lang.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Greg House sat at the table nursing his beer. Well, nursing wasn't exactly the right word. That implied that he'd had only that one the entire time he'd been there.

And that would be a lie.

It was actually his fourth. He knew that he'd be called on soon to go to work, so he'd probably have to stop drinking, but really for what reason? He could do this as easily drunk as sober.

Sometimes drunk was better.

When he took the time to think about it, it amazed him sometimes this feeling that his life was over. That there really was nothing much worth living for. Oh, he knew people often felt that way.

It just didn't usually happen to twenty-five year olds.

He glanced at the bar, and Andy, the bartender, gave him a grin. Any minute now, Andy would be telling him to get to work. It was okay; he had to work. He needed food to eat, beer to drink and the occasional pot or coke to help him get through this.

He looked towards the bar again, but Andy wasn't grinning. He looked strange, like something was happening to him. Could he be sick?

Greg shook that thought out of his head. THAT wasn't his life. Not anymore. Not ever. He downed the beer and wondered if he had enough time for one more before work started.

Something was happening to Andy. As he stood there watching Greg drink his beer, a strange shimmering glow enveloped him. Of course, no one else in the bar saw it. Other than Greg thinking he looked strange, no one noticed when Andy left and someone else took his place.

Because he looked exactly the same.

Sam Beckett stumbled a bit as he got his bearings and found his feet. Well, not technically HIS feet. They belonged to this – he looked down to find an apparently male body, thank God! He'd had more than enough experience being a woman. The feet and every other part of the body belonged to this guy, whoever he was. The only thing that belonged to Sam was the thoughts and feelings. He couldn't really explain it to anyone, as he didn't fully understand it himself.

Sam finally caught his breath. Leaping into someone was always a bit disconcerting. Mostly the people around him didn't notice anything unless they were in really close proximity.

Like this guy standing next to him and staring at him oddly.

"Andy? Did you hear me?" the guy asked. He was a big guy, older than Sam. Well, older than the real Sam. He had no idea at this point how old his present persona was.

"W-what?" he stuttered.

"I said, get your buddy over there to lay off the sauce and start playing some goddamned music. I ain't paying him to drink. I got plenty of people who would do that job for a lot less money."

While he spoke, the older man tilted his head towards a table across the room where a man sat drinking a beer. He was looking at Sam oddly. Had he seen the transfer? If he did, Sam doubted he'd noticed anything more than the little stumble.

"Uh, sure. I'll, um, ask him."

"You won't ask. You'll tell. Got it?"

A waitress came up to the bar at that moment and addressed the man. "Pete, Roger wants to put the drinks on his tab again. I told him I'd have to ask you, like you said."

"You tell that son of a bitch, he's not putting a damned thing on the tab until he pays what he owes."

"Right, Pete." She walked away to convey the message to the hapless customer.

Pete stared at Sam. "Andy? Get moving."

"Right. Sure…Pete."

Sam had learned to listen carefully to those around him. It was the best way to learn the names of people he was supposed to know without looking like an idiot. Although sometimes he did, no matter what he tried.

He walked to the table where the man was sitting and studied him as he approached. He was in his twenties, he estimated, slim, with a full head of reddish brown hair. He looked up when Sam approached and Sam saw his eyes were a deep, bright blue.

"Don't tell me." He said to Sam. "Pete sent you over to tell me to start working."

"That's about it."

The man nodded. "I know. Time for tickling the ivories."

He got up from the table and Sam saw that he was very tall. He walked easily to the piano in the corner and sat down. He switched on the mike and spoke into it.

"Hello, drunks and those about to be drunk. I'm Greg House and I'm going to bore you to tears on that journey."

He started playing a rock and roll song. The playing was very good. Sam breathed a sigh of relief and returned to the bar. At least he now knew the names of two people in this world. That was pretty good for only being here a few minutes.

As he stood behind the bar, something nagged at his brain. He was always missing things when he leaped. Things he should know just sort of disappeared. Something about Greg House was familiar, but he couldn't place it.

As he ruminated on that, he caught sight of a figure at the end of the bar, dancing with the music that was being played. In a bar like this, a man like him would certainly stand out. Although he was small in stature, his clothing made him seem larger than life. He was wearing a lime green suit with a bright yellow shirt and a tie in a yellow and lime green print. His shoes matched his suit. Also, no one else in the bar was dancing, so that was sure to bring attention to him.

That is, if anyone else in the bar could see him. Fortunately, only Sam could. Al was a hologram, hooked up to the neurons in Sam's head. He was Sam's best friend in the world and his only helper in his crazy life. It was Al who would explain where – and when – he was and what he was here to do. He got that information from a supercomputer nicknamed Ziggy which Sam had created.

Ziggy was very good at determining where he was and figuring what he needed to change in order to leap again. Unfortunately, Ziggy usually got that last part wrong. Despite the human qualities that Sam had integrated into her (yes, the computer was female), Ziggy was only a computer and could only compute the most logical outcomes. It took Sam's human viewpoint on the situation to determine what really needed to be done.

Whether Ziggy would be wrong or right, didn't matter at that moment. The thing that did was that Sam's only friend was there to help him. He always breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Al.

He tried to catch his friend's eye without making it too apparent. Eventually, Al looked towards him and smiled. Sam tilted his head toward the sign that said "restroom". Al nodded and continued dancing while Sam started making his way there.

"Hey, where you goin'?" Pete called out.

"Uh, men's room."

"It's not time for your break yet."

"Well, if I don't go to the john right now, there's gonna be an accident."

Pete grumbled something unintelligible, but Sam ignored him and kept going. He'd feel much better when he knew what he was up against.

In the bathroom, he looked around, but luckily it was empty. Which was good, since no one would witness him talking to himself. But it was bad, because Al wasn't there either.

Suddenly, Al appeared in front of him, causing Sam to stumble again.

"I wish you wouldn't do that!" he told him.

"Do what?" Al asked innocently.

"Appear out of thin air."

"I am thin air. At least to you."

Sam sighed and asked, "So where am I?"

"You're in a bar."

Sam stared at him.

'A bar," Al continued, "In Baltimore. It's…1984." He said, after banging the handheld device with the colored lights that he had in his left hand. His right hand balanced a cigar between two fingers.

"Okay, Baltimore, 1984. Who am I?"

"You're Andrew – Andy – Nelson. You're the bartender here."

"And why am I here?"

"Didn't you recognize the piano player?"

"His name seemed familiar, but, I don't know."

"That's your Swiss cheese brain. Come on, you didn't recognize Greg House? The G Man?"

"The G Man? It still sounds familiar, but I'm not sure."

"He was a musician, singer and piano player. He revolutionized modern music, blending rock and roll, jazz and even classical sounds together. His album, The G Man, went double platinum in '88."

"Right! I remember now. I had that album. I went to see him perform in 1990. He was amazing."

"He was."

Sam suddenly remembered something else and got serious. "Al, he died of a drug overdose in 1995."

"Yep."

Sam looked at the young man playing the piano. Greg was swaying a bit as his fingers went up and down the piano keys masterfully. He glanced up and saw Sam looking at him. He smiled wryly, then went back to concentrating on the music.

"What am I here to do, Al?"

"Well, Ziggy thinks you're here to stop him from overdosing."

"But that's eleven years from now. Any changes I make now could be gone by the time 1995 comes along."

"Ziggy says that this is a critical time in his life. If you can get him on the right path now, he won't overdose in 1995."

Sam watched him again. "I hope so, Al. Because it would really be a shame for the world to lose all that brilliance."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Harley walked slowly into the bar. She wanted to run in, but she had to look sophisticated and older. She touched her hair lightly. Her new perm looked good, if she didn't say so herself. Not bad for a home job. The beauty parlor wanted fifty dollars to do a perm! She did not have that kind of money. But she could buy a do it yourself perm kit at Thrift Drug for a few dollars.

Which she'd done and now her hair looked really good. And with the right makeup, she looked older than her nineteen years. At least two years older. Old enough to get into bars.

At least Pete's wasn't too hard. Pete didn't really care, as long as you didn't look too young. He was more interested in making money. And Andy was cool. He had other things on his mind than how old she was.

But tonight it was just important that she be in Pete's. Greg House was playing piano there on a Saturday night and he'd promised her he'd let her sing one, maybe two songs. All she needed was for someone to hear her, someone important and that would be it. It would be her big break.

She knew that the only reason Greg was letting her sing was that he was hoping to sleep with her. Which was okay. She actually would have done it with him before this, but she held out in the hopes he'd let her sing first. She certainly wouldn't mind climbing into bed with those blue eyes. Not at all.

She sauntered up to the bar and sat on a stool near where Andy stood. He was watching Greg as though he'd never seen him before.

"Hi, Andy."

"Uh, hi yourself." He said giving her an odd look.

"Can you give me a beer?"

He frowned. "Aren't you a little young?"

She laughed. "As if that ever bothered you before! Come on, I need a beer now. Then I'm going to talk to Greg. Tonight's the night he promised to let me sing."

Andy looked away from her, as if he was looking at someone. But there was no one at the other side of the bar. He nodded slightly, then turned back to her.

"One beer. You're too young to be drinking." He put the bottle of beer on the bar.

She was confused. "When did you get all moral?

She picked up the bottle and walked towards the piano.

As he watched her go, he said quietly, "Who is she? What do you know about her, Al?"

Al was punching buttons on his handheld computer. "Harley James. Left home when she was sixteen. She's a singer. Or thinks she is. She made the rounds of local clubs for a few years. Never really made it."

"What happened to her?"

"Well, let's see, not a whole lot on her. She seems to have disappeared in the nineties. Not much more information on her. Oh, here, she was identified by fingerprints about twenty years from now."

"What do you mean identified?"

"She was found dead. She killed herself."

"Oh, God."

Harley approached the piano with a smile and the most seductive walk she could manage. It didn't really matter. Greg was concentrating on the music. She came up next to him, but was careful not to touch him or distract him in any way. She'd done that once and he almost bit her head off. She just waited at the edge of the piano until he finished the song.

When he did, she clapped loudly and sidled up next to him. "That was wonderful, Greg."

"Right. You just got here and spent most of the time talking to Andy. How much of the song did you actually hear?"

"I heard enough. And you're always good."

He rolled his eyes.

"So, when do I get to sing?"

He was starting his next song. "How about the twelfth of never?"

"Well, that's not my first song choice, but if you want…"

"No, that's when you can sing."

She glared at him, but he ignored her as he started playing his next song. He did a few more, then announced he was taking a break. His eyes met hers as she sat there dejectedly.

"Come on." He said, and headed for the back room. She followed him and when he closed the door behind them, he pulled her into his arms, gave her a hard kiss and squeezed her breasts.

"Convince me that I should let you sing with me." He told her.

"Well, sure, I guess we could…"

He pushed her down until she was on her knees in front of him.

"Okay." She said in a tight voice.

He unzipped and pulled his cock out. She leaned close to him and took it gingerly into her mouth. He put his hands in her hair and pushed her closer to him. She licked and sucked until finally he came with a groan.

She pulled back then and wiped her mouth. "So can I sing now?"

He was going to refuse, but he looked at her sitting there on the floor. She was a hot little piece and it was a good bj. If he let her sing, he might get more of it later.

"Okay. One song."

She popped up, a big smile on her face. "Oh, thank you! I'm going to go fix my make-up."

He rolled his eyes and returned to the bar. He went to Andy and got another beer.

"Sounds really good, Greg." The bartender told him.

"Thanks. Say, you got any coke on you?"

Andy looked confused. "You want a coke? I thought you wanted a beer."

"Hah, hah, real funny. Come on, I'm finished with the last stuff I got from you. Do you have any more?"

Andy lowered his head and mumbled under his breath, "I'm a drug dealer?"

Greg looked around the bar. "Yeah, I know that. Are you trying to make sure everyone else does too?"

Andy just shook his head.

"What the hell's the matter with you tonight? You've been acting strange."

"Uh, nothing."

"So do you have any coke?"

"Um, no, I think I'm all out."

Greg nodded. "Okay, guess it's booze tonight."

He picked up his beer and returned to the piano.

Sam blew out a breath and turned his head slightly to where Al was appearing.

"I'm a drug dealer! Al, I'm a drug dealer."

"Apparently."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't do any research on Andy. Just on Greg."

"Well do some! I need to know what's going on. If I get arrested for selling drugs, I can't help Greg, can I?"

Al was punching buttons again. "Okay, here we go. Andy Nelson dropped out of high school at seventeen. Had a few misdemeanor charges. Oh, you – he – gets arrested for dealing drugs six months from now. He's sentenced to five years, but he never gets out."

"Why not?"

"He's stabbed in prison. He dies during his first year there."

Sam looked worried. "So all of these people die tragically? Are you sure I'm only here for Greg?"

"Ziggy gives it 95 percent that you're here to stop Greg House from a drug overdose."

"Ziggy isn't always right."

"Sam…"

"Look, I know what you're saying, but why can't I save all of them?"

"You have to save Greg."

"But…"

"Hey!" Pete bellowed from the other side of him. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Huh?" Sam said.

"You're talking to yourself, dummy. You been drinking the profits?"

"Uh, no."

"Then stop that crap and take care of the customers."

"Right." Sam glanced quickly at Al, then returned to the bar and poured more beer.

At the piano, Harley was waiting anxiously for Greg to give her a chance. He saw her nervous stares and they were distracting him. He sighed, and as he finished the song, he was playing, he nodded at her. She smiled brightly and practically bounced with excitement.

"Okay," he said into the microphone. "Besides my brilliant piano playing, you're going to hear this lovely lady sing for you."

She whispered to him and he nodded. He started playing softly and she started singing quietly:

First when there's nothing, but a slow glowing dream

That your fear seems to hide, deep inside your mind…

Her voice got stronger as did the music as she sang the words to 'Flashdance…What a Feeling!'

Her voice was clear and strong, not amazing, but very nice. The audience seemed to enjoy her performance, which was a relief to Greg. He couldn't afford to let her sing and have her bomb. It would reflect on him and he needed this job.

But he'd gotten a nice bj, the audience liked her singing and, with luck, he would get laid tonight too. A win all around for him.

He grinned at Andy, but the guy was turned to the side, apparently talking to himself. Again. He'd been doing that all night. What the hell was wrong with him?

Greg knew he shouldn't care, but he could never let a mystery go until he solved it. He'd solve this one too.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The next day, Greg walked into Pete's in the late afternoon. He wasn't working, but Andy could always be depended on to give him free drinks. If he paid for the first beer, Andy would refill it without charging him.

As he approached the bar, he saw that Andy was once again apparently talking to himself. What was up with this guy?

Sam had – with Al as his own GPS – found his way to Andy's apartment. Where he found that the guy kept a good supply of coke there. He wasn't sure what to do. He was tempted to get rid of it, but he could get in trouble just trying to do that. In the end, he left it there and after answering the first phone call where someone asked for it, he stopped answering the phone.

Luckily Pete had told him before he left to be sure to be in at noon and not to be late. Which told him that he had to work. So, now he stood at the bar again, getting beers and making drinks with Al instructing him on how to make them. He was surprised at how many of them his friend knew without asking Ziggy.

"I was in the Navy, Sam." Was Al's only explanation for that.

Greg eyed Andy warily, unsure of what was going on.

"Hey, Andy." He said carefully.

"Hi, Greg." Andy was a little too upbeat in greeting him.

"Can I get a beer?"

"Sure." He put the bottle in front of him and just stared at him.

Greg gave him an odd look. "What?"

"Uh, so, uh, what did you do last night?"

"Banged the shit out of Harley."

Andy frowned. "Isn't she a little young?"

This time Greg frowned. "You weren't worried about that last week when you were banging her."

"Oh, right." Andy looked uncomfortable, once again glancing at the other end of the bar and muttering under his breath, "Great, I'm a sleazeball."

Greg looked there too, then asked him. "Who's there?"

"What?"

"You keep looking at …someone I assume? And talking to them too it seems. So, who is it? Please tell me at least that it's a sexy woman."

"Uh, no one, nothing, I'm not …"

"Yeah, you are. If you don't want to talk about it, fine. But can I buy some of the shit you're on right now? It must be really good."

"I'm not on anything. And you shouldn't be either."

"Whoa, my supplier is telling me to stop using? Isn't that bad for business?"

Sam was worried. He wanted to get advice from Al, but if he turned towards his friend again, Greg would notice. Especially since he'd already noticed before. And how was Greg's drug dealer supposed to convince him to stop taking drugs? This just didn't make sense for him to leap into Andy. He could have been Pete or one of the waitresses or patrons, or even Harley.

Wait, considering what Greg and Harley had done the previous night, that was probably NOT a good idea. Still, this didn't seem that good either.

Al realized Sam's concerns. ""Connect with him, Sam. That's the only way you're going to get him to stop the drugs."

Sam nodded, then asked Greg. "So what are you doing later?"

"Nothing."

"Do you want to do something? Hang out? Have some dinner or something?"

"Gee, Andy, are you asking me out on a date? Jealous of me and Harley?"

Sam laughed nervously and said, "No way. I just have nothing to do and figured if you didn't, we could hang out."

Greg shrugged. "Sure."

That evening, the two of them sat in Greg's tiny apartment with pizza and beer watching a baseball game. Sam was a little surprised at what he saw in Greg's space. There was the small television and the requisite single guy stereo. A nice collection of records of all genres. There was a guitar in the corner, that had apparently been played a lot, but was carefully cared for. Other than that, there were books.

A lot of books.

Sam expected music books, which he saw. He did not expect to see medical books. And not just random, generic medical books. These were complicated medical texts on a wide range of subjects. Various diseases were highlighted, as well as treatments. There were journals too, the kind that doctors used.

Sam recognized them because he had read many of them himself in his studies, since medicine was one of his degrees. And by the looks of this collection, they'd been read often too.

Sam turned to Greg and asked, "What's with the medical books?"

Greg looked alarmed for a moment that Andy had seen them, but then he shrugged. "Just some old stuff from school. I never got around to getting rid of them."

"School? Medical school?"

Greg shrugged again. "Yeah, for awhile. But I'm into music now."

He tried to sound convincing, but the blue eyes held sadness as he looked at the medical texts.

"You were in medical school?"

Greg nodded.

"Well, what happened?"

Another shrug. "I dropped out."

"But you must still like it. You've kept all these books."

"I told you, I just never got around to getting rid of them."

"Well, used medical books can sell for a lot. You should take them over to the university. You could make some good money with all of these."

Greg nodded and looked away.

They went back to the game and the pizza, but Sam's mind was whirling. He felt that Greg wasn't telling the whole truth about medical school. And some of the journals he'd seen were new. If they were left over from a school he dropped out of, why would he buy a new medical journal?

Back at his own place, that night, he waited for Al to appear. It took a while, but eventually, his friend was there, wearing black pants, a white shirt and a tie with a piano keyboard on it.

"Where have you been?" Sam demanded.

"Tina and I had a date and after some dinner and some dancing, we went back to her place and—"

"I don't want to know!"

"Did you get friendly with Greg?"

"Yeah, Al and guess what? He was in medical school!"

"So?"

"He dropped out, so he says, but he kept all the medical books and he's still buying medical journals."

"So, he likes to read about medicine. I buy Sports Illustrated, but I'm not an athlete. Although when the swimsuit edition comes out, I do try to do my part."

Sam ignored that remark. "Don't you see, Al? Maybe that's why I'm here. To get Greg to go back to medical school and become a doctor."

"That's not what Ziggy said, Sam. Besides, Greg becomes a big star and is a part of history. You can't change that."

"He's a big star in our reality. But if I change it, no one will know Greg House as a big star. They will only know him as a great doctor."

"You're assuming he will be a great doctor. He could be a lousy one and kill people. After all, he dropped out, so he couldn't cut it."

Sam shook his head. "That doesn't make sense. First of all, he's smart, really smart. A few minutes with him and I knew that."

"And you should know."

"Exactly. And medical textbooks sell for a lot used. He'd know that. He doesn't make that much money. If they didn't mean anything to him, he'd have sold them by now."

Al was adamant. "But Ziggy—"

"I don't care what Ziggy says! She's been wrong before. Look, how can I be here to stop him from a drug overdose that won't happen for eleven years? Do you know how much could happen between now and then? Unless, I'm supposed to hang around until then, it doesn't make sense."

Al was considering that. As much as he hated to agree with his friend, it was logical.

"Al, I don't think I'm here to stop him from that overdose. I think I'm here to help him become a doctor."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Wednesday night was not very crowded at Pete's. But more people came in now that Greg House was playing Wednesday thru Saturday.

Which was exactly what Harley was hoping for. She had met Ed Wilkerson the week before. He worked for a record company and had told her that if she sounded good, he might bring his boss in to hear her. And he'd been there on Saturday when she'd sung. They couldn't talk then, as he was with friends, but he promised to come back during the week.

So she came in on Wednesday, dressed casually in jeans that were wider around the hips and tight at the ankles and a short-sleeved sweater that fell lightly off her shoulder. Ed wasn't there yet, so she went to the bar.

Andy gave her a disapproving look.

"What now?"

"First of all, you're too young to be in a bar. Second, why are you doing anything that any guy asks you?"

She glared at him. "You weren't complaining when you were the one doing the asking."

Andy looked pained. "I –I know. But that's beside the point. You need to get a job, find a nice guy. Get out of this atmosphere."

Despite what Al had told him, he believed that there had to be something he could do to save this pretty young girl from committing suicide in the future. Maybe if he helped her get her life in a new direction?

"I have a job. You know that. At Sears, remember? It pays shit. And I don't want to meet a nice guy. I'm not looking for a husband or any of that shit. I'm going to be a star."

Sam didn't have the heart to tell her that she wouldn't be. And before he could say any more to her, she walked away.

Who the hell did Andy think he was, she thought, lecturing her? The guy sold drugs, for pity's sake! He had no right to lecture anyone. The only reason she didn't call him on it, was that she occasionally obtained some from him and she didn't want him cutting her off. Especially since a bj or lay would keep her well supplied with no cash needed.

She realized that most people would think she was a whore, getting what she could out of men.

But the reality was that she had learned early in her life that this was the only way to deal with men. She'd learned that lesson at age nine, when her stepfather started raping her. She'd tried to fight him in the beginning, but eventually, she realized that was useless. And when he started bringing his friends in to do the same, she lost all hope of it stopping.

But then she'd figured out something else. If she cooperated and pretended she enjoyed it, she could get almost anything she wanted from the fat slob and his disgusting friends. At age twelve, she started acting like it was what she wanted and they bought her all sorts of stuff. She didn't have to do housework and she always had new clothes.

Her mother got mad at her behavior sometimes, but since her stepfather had a good job and made good money, her mother didn't want to anger him. And he treated Harley like a princess. Her mother never realized why. Or at least she seemed as though she didn't. Harley wasn't sure.

Until that day when she was sixteen and her mother walked in on them.

She'd had a fit and threw Harley out of the house. Her stepfather hadn't been able to help her, since her mother threatened to have him arrested for child molestation and statutory rape.

So Harley was alone on the streets. But as awful as her stepfather had been, he'd taught her one thing: she could use her body to get what she wanted out of life.

In the beginning, she'd considered turning tricks, but she saw what happened to the girls who did that. They did it with whomever asked and most of the money they got went to their pimps. And most of them were strung out on drugs, so they had no choices left.

That wasn't for Harley. She used her body, but she used it selectively to survive this life. She didn't try to live above her means. And she had a dream.

She knew she could sing. She just needed to get the right break and she could be a famous singer.

In her world, men didn't love and take care of you. You used them for what you needed and then moved on.

Andy was good for getting her into the bar and supplying her with pot and a little coke now and then.

Greg was her music so that others could hear her sing.

Now Ed would get her heard by his boss. She supposed she'd be sleeping with Ed soon and probably his boss as well.

It didn't really matter, as long as she got what she wanted.

Sam watched her as she walked away, a look of sadness on his face.

"I know that look, Sam." Al said. "You can't do anything for her."

"There has to be something, Al."

"I told you, we can't even get anymore information on her until she's found dead. Until then, Harley James completely drops off the radar. If we don't know why she killed herself, there's no way to help her."

Sam looked down at the bar. "It just seems a waste."

"I know, Sam. But you're here to help Greg."

Sam turned towards his friend. "Yeah, help him go back to medical school."

"Sam, I don't think so. I had Ziggy check into it. He was in medical school. Actually, he was in two medical schools. He was expelled from both of them."

"Expelled?" Sam asked.

"He couldn't cut it, Sam. He's not meant to be a doctor."

The would-be doctor sat at the piano, playing a soft jazz tune. On Friday and Saturday nights, he had to play the more popular tunes because the bar was crowded and that was what the audience wanted.

But on Wednesday and Thursday, there weren't as many people there, so he could play whatever he liked. He would find obscure songs or try blending different styles in the same song, just to see how it sounded. The few people that were there seemed to like it, so Pete didn't mind and Greg got the chance to really experiment with the music.

As he considered what to play next, he looked across the room to where Harley had just greeted the bald guy he'd seen her talking to last week.

It wasn't that he was jealous. She was a sexy piece, sure, but he knew she spread it around. It didn't really bother him. But this guy looked like a jerk. If she went off with him, she was an idiot. And she might get hurt.

She saw Greg staring at her, and tried to ignore him. She gave him a defiant glare as she left the bar with Ed.

The next night, Greg was standing at the bar and talking to Andy when Harley came in. She walked directly to him.

Greg gave her a disgusted look and said, "How was your, um, date last night?"

"None of your business. But I have something important to tell you."

Greg just gave her a stony stare.

She ignored the look and continued. "Ed works for a record company. And next week he's bringing his boss here to listen to me sing. So you have to let me sing!"

"And why should I?"

"Because he'll be hearing you play too. This could be the break both of us need."

"Did you sleep with him to get him to bring his boss? Don't bother, I know the answer. And you'll sleep with the boss to get the record contract too, I suppose. So, what do I get for letting you sing?"

"Whatever you want. And yes, I slept with Ed and, yes, I'll probably sleep with his boss. It's not like it matters."

"Why would you let guys use you like that?"

"Are you kidding? Men have been using me my whole life. Now, finally, I'm using them to get what I want. I'll work my ass off to be a success. And whether I have to do it with sweat and blood or on my back, I don't give a shit. As long as I get it.

"So if you want a blow-job or to fuck me, fine, I don't care. But I need to sing next week when this guy is here. Do we have a deal?"

Greg nodded and she walked away. He stared at Andy. "Well, I guess she knows what she wants."

"Guess so."

Greg shrugged. "The good thing is that if the guy comes to listen to her, he'll have to listen to me too. So maybe I'll get a record deal out of it too."

He walked away and headed back to the piano.

Sam watched him go and then turned to Al who looked grim.

"That's exactly what happens, Sam. The record producer comes in here to listen to Harley and offers the contract to Greg instead. It's his big break. He gets an agent, starts getting booked in bigger venues and just takes off."

Sam watched the young man play and thought about that.

"Al, if he's supposed to become a doctor, he can't have that audition. If he gets a record contract, he's going to believe he should be a musician. He'll give up medicine completely."

"That's what he's supposed to do, Sam. He's a great musician."

"He could also be a great doctor."

"You don't know that." Al told him.

"No, I don't. I just have a feeling."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Late that night, Sam paced Andy's apartment trying to find an answer to how to get Greg House back to medical school. Sure, he could somehow mess up the audition, but all that would do is ruin Greg's chances to get a record contract. This time. The next time he might not be there and then what would happen? No, he needed to do more than that.

He needed to somehow convince Greg that he had to go back to medical school. But since he'd been expelled, that wasn't going to be easy. First of all, he'd have to find a school that would accept him. Two expulsions would be tough to overcome, which Greg already knew.

Sam turned to his friend who was lazily watching the younger man pace. "Al, we need to find a medical school that will take Greg despite having been expelled."

"Not gonna be easy, Sam. Unless he wants to go to South America."

"He probably doesn't, so we'll leave that as a last resort. There has to be somewhere in the States that will take him. What were his grades like?"

Al punched his handheld. "Top of the class. And his IQ is in the genius territory. Almost as high as yours."

Sam ignored the last part. "If he's smart, then someone might be willing to overlook the expulsions. Ask Ziggy to find a medical school that exists in 1984 that might do it."

Al punched more things in. "She's working on it. But even if you have that, how are you going to get him to agree? He seems pretty stubborn."

"I'll figure that out once I have the school."

Greg was at home, strumming on his guitar. He would have liked to have a piano here, but there was no room in the tiny apartment. Which was how he'd gotten the job at Pete's. He'd wandered in for a beer, saw the piano and started playing. The patrons liked it, so Pete agreed to pay him to play.

If Harley followed through on her promise to bring this record producer in, he knew it might mean he could get a break too. He knew he was good. All he needed was someone to hear him and he could be on his way to being a successful professional musician, maybe even a star.

If that was what he wanted.

He looked around the room at the medical books and journals that he couldn't part with. Andy had been too curious about them and Greg had been too ashamed to admit that he'd been expelled.

When he thought about it, he got really angry at himself. The first expulsion had been stupid, but unavoidable. The second one had been REALLY stupid. Why in the world he had copied off of that idiot he'd never know. Had he purposely wanted to sabotage his medical career? He still wasn't sure.

But if this audition was successful, he could well be on his way to a different career. And if he took that step, he had a feeling there would be no turning back Medicine would be a forgotten dream.

Harley got out of the bed. Ed was as disgusting as she'd thought he'd be. Not that she really expected much more out of guys. They looked at her as an easy piece of ass that they didn't mind doing something for to get her into their beds. The only one that was a little different was Greg. Oh, sure, he was as eager and insatiable as the others, but he had a little more style and he tried to please her as well as attain his own pleasure. If she had to sleep with him again to get him to let her sing, she really wouldn't mind.

But Ed? Yuck. They'd gone to a nearby hotel and she was ready to leave. But she didn't want to just sneak out, since she still needed him to bring his boss. So she quietly got dressed, then returned to the bed and touched him lightly.

"Ed? I'm going to leave. I have to get up early and I don't want you to have to get up, okay?"

"Yeah, sure, baby." he said sleepily.

"You won't forget about bringing your boss next week?"

"No, I'll bring him."

"Great! Thank you. I'll see you soon."

She moved quickly to get out of there before he woke up too much and wanted more from her.

As she walked home, she thought about what she'd just done, what she usually did with men. While she didn't regret it as it would get her what she wanted, she sometimes wished there was another way. She didn't want to feel like a whore. She promised herself that when she got to the point where her life really meant something, she would never use or be used by men again.

Sam woke up early. He hadn't been able to sleep much. He knew that getting Greg to return to medical school was what he was here to do. And during the night, he'd come up with a plan. All he needed now was for Al to provide the information about a school.

"Al?" he called out. He knew that his friend was connected to the neurons in his head and would hear him. And in moments, Al appeared.

"What did Ziggy find out?" Sam asked. "Is there a school that might take him?"

"Yeah, we found something. But there's no guarantees they'll take him. And we still don't even know if this is what you're here to do."

"If you found a school, then that means it is what I'm here to do." Sam smiled. This would work.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Sam hung up the phone with a grin on his face. The medical school he had just spoken to would definitely take Greg. It would be perfect. Now all he had to do was convince the guy.

He had to go to work, but decided to try to see Greg first. However, there was no answer at his apartment. He went to work, hoping the young man would come in early. He often did, to eat and have a beer or two before he played.

But tonight, he rushed in just before he was about to begin.

Greg had spent the day at the library. He still had his undergrad ID for Hopkins and used it at the library. It wasn't valid and he couldn't take anything out on it, but it got him in and he could look up music and make copies for five cents a page.

Sometimes he went to the public library and took books out from there, but the university library was open later and no one paid attention to a young man hanging out there for hours. It was just assumed that he was a student pulling an all-nighter.

He wanted to have new and different things to play, but he couldn't afford to buy music. He also liked experimenting with different genres.

He'd gotten so wrapped up in the research; he'd almost been late for work. So he ended up sitting down at the piano without having his usual beer first.

When Harley came in, she went right to Greg.

"Can I sing tonight?"

He looked at her. "I don't know."

"I need to practice." She insisted. "I got some songs that I'd like to sing next week. Can you practice them so that I can sing them with you."

"Let me see." He said.

She handed him some sheet music. He glanced at them quickly.

"I don't need to practice. I can play these."

"Really? Then can I sing tonight so I can see how they sound?"

He shrugged. "Why not?"

He sat down and opened the first piece of music, then looked up at her. "Are you sure about this one? You really think you can do Streisand?"

"Yes, I do."

He shrugged again and started playing the song. In her clear, young voice, she began singing:

Life is a moment in space,

when the dream is gone, it's a lonelier place…

She continued softly, but her voice rose when she got to the chorus:

I am a woman in love and I'd do anything

To get you into my world and hold you within

It's a right I defend over and over again

What do I do?

Greg had to admit that she did the song well. It just seemed as though something was missing. Still, he'd play for her and let her sing. Because her break might be his break.

He had a waitress bring him his beer, so he never went to the bar. His breaks were spent in a corner with Harley, going over the music, while he gave her advice on how to sing the songs.

Sam was really frustrated. The bar was crowded and he couldn't get away from it to tell Greg he needed to talk with him. Then, on top of everything, when the young man was finished playing, he left the bar with Harley by his side.

"Damn!" Sam muttered. How could he convince him to go back to medical school if he couldn't talk to him?

Greg and Harley sat on the bed in his apartment, discussing music. He had his guitar and was playing some notes for her. She was singing and trying out some of the sounds he wanted her to do.

After they worked like that for some time, she fell back on the bed and said, "Enough. I can't sing any more tonight."

"You sounded good."

She looked at him, her eyes shining. "Thanks for helping me."

He shrugged. "Not a problem."

"Um, if you want…"

He glared at her. "I didn't help you to get laid."

"Okay. I didn't mean…"

"Look, don't think you need to sleep with guys to get things. You can ask for a favor. You can pay in other ways. Bake some cookies. Sew a button on. Guys like that stuff too."

"Not as much as sex."

"Well, of course not. But if you only offer that other stuff, that's what they'll take."

She considered this and he watched her.

"What happened in your life to make you sleep with strange men to get stuff?"

She closed off then. "It's none of your business. Like I told you, I just need to get my break. Once I do, I won't have to do any of this anymore. In the meantime, I'll do anything to get there."

He nodded, realizing he wasn't going to change her mind. He suddenly felt a great desire to hold her, but he didn't want to seem like one of those other guys. He reached out and took her hand. She looked down at their joined hands. He started to rub his thumb against her palm.

She was about to move closer to him, but he stopped her.

"I thought you wanted sex."

"I do. But only if you want it too. There's no rush. And you can tell me what you want too."

She swallowed and stared at him. She'd never really been in a situation where she could call the shots. And she wasn't even sure where to begin.

"Um, I think I would like to have sex."

"Okay. Me too."

She licked her lips. "Can you kiss me?"

"Sure." He leaned over and, putting his hands gently on the top of her arms, he touched his lips to hers, gently at first and then with more pressure. She responded and put her arms around his neck.

"Hold me." She whispered.

He pulled her into his arms and held her close. They kissed some more. It didn't take long for two young people to be ready for more than kissing and cuddling. But he still held back and let her take the lead.

She pulled his shirt over his head until his bare chest was next to her. Then she removed her own top and bra. Now they were skin to skin and both were excited. Still, he waited for her.

She reached out and unbuckled his belt, then worked his zipper down. When she pushed his pants and underwear down, he popped out, hard and erect. She started to feel excited. That didn't usually happen to her. Most times, the guys were ready and she just went along with them. She never made the decision.

This time was different in so many ways. She pulled off her own slacks and moved closer to him. His hands moved over her body slowly, caressing, massaging. She moaned in pleasure. He placed his hands lightly on her breasts and caressed. Then he took one hand and started moving it down.

"Is this what you want?" he whispered.

"Yes." She said breathlessly. "Yes, this and more."

He smiled and moved his hand lower. He slipped one finger inside her and she gasped. He kept moving and caressing until she was bucking under his hand.

She fell against him when it was done and he held her until she broke away and started reaching for his cock. But he stopped her.

"No. Tonight, it's what you want. Do you want to do me or do you want me to make love to you?"

No one had ever referred to it as 'making love' with her before.

"I want you to make love to me."

He pushed her back on the bed gently and positioned himself over her. He put his hand on her face and then kissed her with both gentleness and passion. She wrapped her arms around him and he slowly slipped inside her. He started moving slowly, pulling out and slowly pushing in again. She started moving under him and he increased the pace. Before long he was thrusting over and over again. They were both on fire and felt as though they would explode. He felt her bucking under him again and knew that she was about to climax. He let go of his own control and tumbled with her, emptying himself inside her.

Harley had never felt anything like that before. Sure, she'd had orgasms, but usually just barely. The guys were worried about their own, not hers. This time, the focus was totally on her. Greg hadn't let himself go until she did.

Was it possible that men weren't always out to screw you?


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The next morning, when they woke up, they had a repeat of the night before. It was with great reluctance that Harley dragged herself out of Greg's bed.

"Where you goin'?" He asked sleepily.

She sighed. "I have to work."

"It's Sunday!"

"Yeah, and Sears is open on Sunday. But it's time and a half, so I usually work then."

He sat up in bed and nodded. He understood the need to make some extra money. He watched her as she dressed, her lovely young body exciting him all over again.

"Have time for one more before you go?"

She looked at him, considering, then shook her head. "No, because it won't be just one more. And I can't be late. Until we get this record deal, I need this job."

He nodded again. "Come over after work. We'll get some pizza and go over the songs again."

"Okay." She smiled at him, then went to the bed and gave him a kiss before she went out of the door.

After she'd gone, he lay back in bed and thought about the night before. And not just the sex – although the sex was awesome. He had discovered a long time ago that when you made sure a woman was pleasured as well as the man, the sex was so much better. It was a fact that still amazed him. Of course, it was fine when a woman just wanted to get him off, like the blow-job Harley had given him the week before. But when it came to real, down to your toes, every bit of you on fire sex, getting her fully engaged in it took it over the top.

But as he lay there, he also thought about the music. Harley had a nice voice. She could certainly get a job as a singer in local bands, maybe even as a background singer for professionals. He just didn't see her as a solo artist. Still, he didn't mind helping her to do her best at this audition, since it might also help him.

Ever since he'd been expelled the last time, he'd been in a funk. He only played the piano at Pete's because it was a job and something he didn't have to work too hard at. He'd never considered that it might be a career that he might have some actual success at.

As he thought about all this, he heard a knock at the door. Thinking that maybe Harley had decided to ditch work to stay with him, he jumped out of bed, naked, and opened the door.

Only to be disappointed when he saw Andy there instead.

Sam wasn't quite sure what to say when he was greeted by a naked Greg House.

"Oh, it's you." Greg said, then turned back into the room and picked up his jeans from the floor.

"I guess you weren't expecting me. I take it Harley isn't here anymore?"

"She just left. She had to work."

"Ah." Sam said. "I was trying to get a chance to talk to you last night, but the two of you were occupied all night."

"Yeah, she's got this record producer guy coming next week to listen to her. And since I'll be playing for her, he'll be listening to me too. So we were working out some of the music we want to do."

Sam nodded. "I heard what you were doing. It sounded good."

Greg shrugged. "Thanks. But we worked it out some more here last night. Before, uh, other things."

"Right. Look, Greg, the thing is, I don't think you should be worrying about this audition. At least not for you."

"Why not?"

"I think you should go back to medical school."

Greg stared at him for a long time, before saying, "First, why is it any of your business? Second, what the hell?"

"It is my business. I can't really explain how, but it is. And medicine is the right career for you. I know it."

"And I'm supposed to take career advice from a drug dealer bartender. Right. Because you've done so much with your life."

"This isn't about me. It's about you. You should be a doctor."

"You think so? Well, you don't know everything about me. Let me tell you, I lied. I didn't drop out of medical school, I was expelled. I couldn't cut it. I'm not supposed to be a doctor."

"I know more about you than you think. I know you lied."

"Yeah, right. Now you're clairvoyant."

"I am in a way. And I can prove it. I know that you were expelled from two medical schools, Michigan and Hopkins. But it wasn't because you couldn't cut it. You were at the top of your class with your grades. You did something stupid each time to get expelled."

Greg stared at him. "How did you know where I went to school? I never told you."

"I told you, I know stuff about you."

"What else do you know about me?"

Sam hesitated, then he spoke, hesitating between each part, "Your father, John House, is a marine pilot. Your mother, Blythe, and you traveled with him. You've lived all over the world: Japan, Egypt, all over."

He hesitated again, then said, "You did your undergrad at Hopkins and graduated magna cum laude. Then you went to Michigan for med school, but you were expelled for a discipline violation."

He paused once more, before continuing, "You came back here and got into the medical school. You were at the top of the class and about to be given the Doyle Internship at the Mayo Clinic. But you cheated and got expelled."

Greg was incredulous. He hadn't told Andy any of this. How in hell did he know this stuff? And there was something else…

"Who's talking to you?" Greg asked him. "Or, who do you THINK is talking to you?"

"Uh, what do you mean?"

"Well, you keep looking to your right. So it looks like you believe someone is there and talking to you."

Sam looked quickly to the right and back again. "Don't worry about that. Was I right?"

Greg stared at his feet, unwilling to admit that the guy had been right about everything.

Sam just smiled. "You don't have to answer. I know I was. And that's how I know that you need to be a doctor."

"Why do you care? Do you think you're going to get a better supply of drugs from me if I become a doctor? Why in hell would it matter to you if I become a doctor or not?"

"I can't explain why I care. It's just important to me. I'm not the person you think I am. I mean, I am, but not really."

Greg gave him an odd look.

"Just go along with me for a minute. I'm trying to tell you that you are supposed to be a doctor."

Greg walked to the tiny window in the apartment and looked out. "It doesn't matter what I want or don't want. Doesn't even matter if that's what I'm supposed to be. I've screwed up my chances. No med school is going to accept me now after two expulsions. So I will never be a doctor."

Sam smiled at him. "That's why I'm here. I found a school that will take you. It's a small college in Montana and they've just started a medical school. They're desperate for students."

"Yeah, only someplace desperate would take me."

"They NEED students. With your grades, they'd love to have you. They'll give you a scholarship too. You'd just need to teach some undergraduate classes, assist the med school teachers and do some tutoring. You only need to do one year. But they really want to have some graduates as soon as possible to build their reputation."

Greg dared to look at him, but he looked serious. A med school would take him?

"I don't know, Andy. I can't believe…" he shook his head. "I may get my break in music in a few days!"

"Greg, when I was in high school, I played basketball. I was pretty good. In fact, I was offered a basketball scholarship from Indiana."

"Wow." Greg was impressed.

"I turned it down. I took the scholarship to MIT. Because I knew I wanted to be a scientist."

Greg smirked. "Oh, you're a scientist? That's why you're working at Pete's. Is there some experiment you're doing with the beer?"

Sam shook his head, "Look, play along with me. I know you don't understand, but there is a reason for this. As I was saying, it wasn't just that I wanted to be a scientist, I needed to be a scientist."

Greg's blue eyes were intense as he looked at him.

"Greg, I have a feeling, no, I know that you NEED to be a doctor. You may like music, but it's not your life."

"You telling me I won't be happy otherwise?"

"You may never be happy no matter what you do. Happiness comes from inside. That's not the point. If you don't become a doctor, you won't really be alive. So life won't really mean anything to you."

"I don't…"

"Look, I have to get to work. Think about it." He reached into his pocket and handed him a slip of paper. "Here's the phone number for that college. Call them. They'll send you an application."

Greg started to shake his head, but Sam interrupted him. "Just take it. You can throw it out later if you want."

Greg took the piece of paper and stared at it as Sam left the apartment.

Harley had a kick in her step as she left work and headed to Greg's. It had been a really good weekend. She was stoked about the audition and the music she had chosen. And the help that Greg had given her with it made her more confident that it would go well.

And then there was she and Greg.

He'd been so sweet the night before. He'd taken care of her and her pleasure. She wasn't in love with – at least she didn't think so. She really wasn't sure what that meant. But he might be the kind of guy she could fall in love with.

When she got to his apartment, he ordered a pizza and as they ate, she talked about the audition and how it would be their chance to make it big.

He didn't say much. When they were finished eating, he helped her with her singing again and then they ended up in bed. He took the lead this time, but still made sure she enjoyed every second of their lovemaking.

After, they lay there and they talked quietly.

"We sound good together." She told him. "If they sign me, they'll probably sign you. We can both become big stars."

"Yeah." He said. But he was thinking about that piece of paper that Andy gave him.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Greg didn't work the next day, but he found himself wandering over to the bar to talk to Andy.

Sam got excited when he saw Greg come in. As soon as he got to the bar, he asked him, "Did you call them?"

"No, I didn't call them. I don't know if I'm going to call them."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't know if that's what I want. And I don't know if I believe you when you say that I'm supposed to be a doctor."

"I do know. I told you I know stuff. I told you all about yourself, didn't I?"

"There are a lot of ways you could have found that out. That doesn't mean you know what's gonna happen."

Sam thought about it, then looked at the empty space to his right, nodded and turned back to Greg.

"Okay, how about this? I'll make a bet with you. Today is May 7, right?"

Greg shrugged. "Beats me. I don't keep track of the days."

"Trust me, it is. I'm going to tell you three things that will be in the news for tomorrow. By the end of the day, May 8, if all of those things haven't occurred, you win. But if by the next morning, you see all of them on the news, I win."

"Win what? What's the bet?"

"If I win, on Wednesday, you call that school and get yourself enrolled. If you win, you go on to become a musician and I won't bother you about it anymore."

Greg stared at him for a long time, considering his words. Really, what did he have to lose? At this point, he couldn't decide whether or not to make that call. If Andy won the bet, he'd go ahead and do it. If Andy lost, well, he could still make the call if he wanted to.

"Okay, I'll take the bet. What is your, uh, friend going to tell you?"

Sam gave Greg an odd look, then glanced to the right again and appeared to be listening to something. He nodded again.

"The USSR will announce that they plan to boycott the Olympics in L.A. this summer."

"That's nuts. USSR loves the Olympics. They always kill."

"Are you going to question my predictions or listen to them?"

"Go on."

Sam listened again, then said, "The longest game in Major League Baseball history will be played between the Milwaukee Brewers and the Chicago White Sox. It will begin at seven thirty p.m. and will be played over the course of two days and will last twenty-five innings. Total time played will be eight hours and six minutes."

"Who the hell would stay that long at a baseball game?"

Sam just stared at him.

"Okay, okay, go on."

"Okay, in Quebec, a guy will go into the National Assembly building, kill three government employees and wound thirteen others. The guy's name is Dennis Lortie."

"Who cares about Canada?"

"Doesn't matter if you care about it, it's still going to happen."

Greg just sneered.

"Okay, how about one closer to home. There will be an accident on I95 tomorrow afternoon."

"Ha, there's always an accident on I95. Even I could predict that."

"This accident will occur on the northbound lanes just outside of Baltimore at approximately four thirty-five and it will tie up traffic for over four hours. It will involve five cars and six people will die, including three children."

"Are you going to go out and cause that just to win?"

"Nope. Don't have to. And you can spend the day with me if you don't trust me."

Greg gave him one more look before walking away. He had a lot to think about.

When he left, Sam looked again to his right and sighed.

"You really think this is gonna work, Sam?" Al asked his friend.

"It has to work, Al. I don't what else to do."

Greg went home, thinking about what Andy had told him. There was no way he could know all of those things, no way he could predict that they would happen.

But what if they did happen? What if, somehow, he did know? What then?

Then he'd make that phone call that he'd been both excited and scared to make. If there was a school that would take him, it could mean the fulfillment of his dream. But what if he screwed it up again. What would he do then?

He didn't try to contact Harley that night. He really needed the time to think about everything.

The next day when woke up – close to noon – he turned on the little portable TV he had. He was stumbling to his little kitchen area to make some coffee when he was stopped in his tracks by the announcer's words:

"In a stunning announcement, fourteen Eastern Bloc countries and allies, including the Soviet Socialist Republic, Cuba and East Germany have announced that they plan to boycott the Summer Olympics in Los Angeles. The USSR cited security concerns, chauvinistic sentiments and an anti-Soviet hysteria being whipped up in the United States. It is believed to be a response to the United States led boycott of the 1980 Summer Olympics in Moscow. President Reagan has stated that he is saddened by the announcement, as the Olympics is the one place that the world can come together in peace."

Greg just stared at the television as the announcer moved on to the next story.

"Wow." He said out loud to no one. "He got one right."

He was eating some hot dogs for dinner when the news announced a massive tie-up on I95:

"A major accident involving at least four cars, possibly five occurred within the last fifteen mintues. Police and rescue workers are trying to get through to help the injured. If you're heading home on I95 North, please find an alternate route. Some possible alternates are…"

Greg looked at the clock. It was not quite five o'clock. Well, there were always accidents on I95, right?

It was later that evening when the news came on with a special report:

"A man entered the Quebec National Assembly and opened fire on the workers there. At this time, three people are confirmed dead, while many others have been wounded. The rampage was stopped when a Sergeant-at-Arms was able to convince the shooter, Denis Lortie, to surrender after a four hour stand-off…"

Greg was starting to get a freaky feeling. This was getting very weird. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey, poured himself a drink or two and went to sleep.

When he woke up the next morning, he was almost afraid to turn on the television, but he did. At first, all he heard was a rehash of the stories from the day before, with the addition of the facts that six people, including three children had been killed in the I95 accident, dozens more injured. The highway wasn't reopened until almost nine p.m. last night. Lots of sound bites from frustrated commuters who were stuck on the road and unable to get home.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, "I got it."

He continued getting his coffee and grabbing a stale donut, when the sports announcer came on, laughing:

"Well, it was an amazing night or should I say morning in Chicago. The game between the Chicago White Sox and the Milwaukee Brewers lasted twenty-five innings and was played for over eight hours!"

Before the guy could continue with the stats, Greg switched off the television and pulled out the piece of paper that Andy had given him. With a sigh, he picked up the telephone and started dialing.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

When Greg came into Pete's that night, he almost avoided the bar and the smug look on the bartender's face. But he went to him anyway.

"So, did you make the phone call?"

Greg stared at him. "How in hell did you know all of those things were going to happen?"

"Does it matter?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, it does."

Sam shrugged. "I'm not gonna tell you. Did you make the phone call?"

"Yes."

Sam grinned widely. "You're going back to medical school!"

"Not necessarily."

Sam frowned. "Why not? What did they say?"

"Oh, they said they'd take me. They're mailing out an application, but it's just a formality. If my grades were as good as I said they were, they'll give me a full scholarship and I probably only have to do one year to graduate."

"That's great! So, what's the problem?"

"I'm not sure if I want to go. This audition tonight could be my big break in the music business."

Sam shook his head. "No! It won't be. The music business will destroy you."

He looked to his right, then shook his head again. "I don't care, Al. It's true and I do know."

Greg narrowed his eyes. "Al, huh? That's your imaginary friend's name?"

Sam caught himself and stared directly at Greg. "I – I don't know what you're talking about. Hey, I won the bet!"

"You did. And I made the phone call. You never bet me to go to school, just to call them. And I did."

"Look, you have to go back to medical school."

"I don't HAVE to do anything." Greg told him.

"Yeah, you do." Pete said from behind them. "You both do. You –" he pointed to Greg, "—have to go play some goddamn music. And you –" he pointed to Sam, "—have to sell drinks to customers and stop jibber jabbering."

Both younger men looked down at the floor and sighed. Then Greg stared once more at Sam and moved to the piano. Sam watched him and when Pete walked away, whispered to Al, "He has to go."

"Sam, you need to find another way to convince him."

Sam ran his hands over his face. What the hell could he do to convince him?

Greg sat at the piano and started playing. He was into his second song when he saw Harley come in. She looked nice. It was obviously a new dress, but he could tell she'd bought it at Sears with her employee discount. Still, she was pretty, with her dark curly hair all fluffed out and her lovely sexy body. With that bit of cleavage showing, no one would care if she was wearing silk or polyester.

She looked around the bar, then, not seeing Ed or his boss, she rushed over to Greg.

"Doesn't look like they're here yet. You haven't seen them, have you?"

"Nope."

"Do I look okay?"

He glanced at the cleavage close up. "You look great."

"Thank you." She gave him a big smile. She looked around again, then stood up straight as she saw two men come through the door.

"They're here! Should I go say hello?"

"No, you should stay here. Ol' Ed knows who you are. When you start singing, they'll get it."

She nodded.

"Okay, ready to do your first song?"

She nodded again, licking her lips. He spoke into the microphone, "Okay, folks, you get a treat tonight. Instead of just listening to me banging the keys, you get the lovely Miss Harley James singing for you."

Harley smiled and waited for Greg to start her music. Her voice was nice and clear and sounded lovely. He still felt there was something missing with her singing, but it did sound nice.

She did three songs, ending with 'Flashdance'. The audience applauded and she smiled and let out a deep breath.

It was fine, she thought, she'd done good and Ed's boss must have enjoyed it.

Greg got up from the piano and walked with her to the table where the men were sitting. Ed smiled and said, "Roy, this is Greg House and Harley James. This is my boss, Roy Bascombe."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bascombe." Harley gushed. "Did you like my singing?"

"It was nice." Roy gave Ed a look and Ed nodded.

"Harley, let's go get a drink at the bar."

"But…" she started, but he took her arm and led her away.

Greg watched them go, then turned back to the man still sitting at the table, waiting for him to explain why he wanted to get rid of Harley.

It didn't take long.

"You're good." He said. "You're very good. I can get you work right now as a studio musician and with a little seasoning, you could be making your own records."

"What about Harley?"

He shrugged. "She's okay. She's a looker, that's for sure, but she'll never be a star. She doesn't have that in her. But you, you do."

Greg stared at the table for a few minutes. "I don't know. It was Harley that set this up. She's the one who wanted the deal."

"Look, I want you. I mean, I really want you. My company could make a fortune with you. Now, if I have to take the dolly as well to get you, no problem. I can give her some background singing work. No problem. But only if you sign."

"I'll have to think about it."

"Don't think too long. Deals like this don't wait forever. You're good, but there are others that are good too."

Greg nodded. He stood up and went back to the piano. As he played the next set, his head was in a whirl. He could have a record deal and possibly become a big star. Or he could go back to medical school and work his tail off to become a doctor.

Sounded like a no brainer to him.


	10. Chapter 10

**Thanks to those who are reading this. Just as an FYI, the things that Sam predicted were all true, except for the I95 accident. But as Greg stated and everyone who lives on the East Coast knows, there's always an accident on I95!**

Chapter 10

Sam could tell that the audition had gone very well. The guy was really talking to Greg, while Ed and Harley stood at the bar drinking. Harley kept glancing nervously to the table where they sat. When Greg got up and went back to the piano, she wasn't sure whether to follow him or stay with Ed, who was droning on about them possibly getting another hotel room that night.

Ugh, she thought, not again if she could help it. Now that he'd brought the boss, all she needed to do was sign a contract and she'd be done with that crap for good.

She smiled at him, but didn't agree to anything. "Maybe we should go back to Mr. Bascombe. He's sitting all alone."

When Greg finished his next set, Harley was waiting for him in the back room.

"What did Mr. Bascombe say to you.?"

He looked at her anxious, pretty face and said, "He's going to sign us."

"Really? Oh, my God, that's wonderful." She put her arms around his neck and hugged him.

"You'll start off as a background singer."

"That's okay. Oh, my God! I'm going to go quit my job tomorrow! Well, not tomorrow, I'm off tomorrow. But Friday, I'm going in there and quitting."

Greg started to get uncomfortable. She was quitting a job that was steady and secure to do something that wasn't going to make her a star.

He knew he shouldn't really worry about it. It was her choice. Besides she might just make it anyway. He'd seen other women with little or even no talent get a hit record. Looks could carry a person for a little while. Maybe long enough for her to make a little money.

She stayed near him for the rest of the night. Bascombe gave Greg his business card, then he and Ed left the bar.

When he finished playing, and while Harley ran to the ladies room, Sam went to him.

"I take it your audition went well?"

"Yep."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to sign a record deal and become a big star."

"You can't do that, Greg!" Sam insisted. "You have to go to medical school. You have to be a doctor."

"I don't HAVE to do anything. I can – and will -- do anything I want."

"And he wants to be a big star." Harley said from behind him. "We both do. Right, Greg?"

"Right." Greg said, without looking at either of them.

They went back to his apartment. As they lay in his bed after making love, Harley chattered on about what they would do and how much money they would make. Greg didn't say anything; he just let her keep talking until she fell asleep.

But he didn't sleep for a long time.

The next day, Harley left around noon and Greg got dressed and decided to go for a walk. He wasn't sure why as he usually hated walking. He never understood why people made such a big deal about it. Everyone could walk. Well, except if you were crippled. Maybe he'd appreciate it if that ever happened to him, but right now, geez, what was the point?

But for some reason, today is seemed like the right thing to do. He ended up by the harbor. In Baltimore, everyone always ended up by the harbor. He sat on a bench and looked out on the water.

Baltimore was more of a home to him than anywhere else he could ever remember. Growing up as he had, moving from place to place, he'd never had the opportunity to put down roots anywhere. But he'd spent four straight years at Hopkins for undergraduate studies. It was the longest he had ever remembered living in one place in his entire life.

He'd gone to Michigan for medical school, but when he'd been expelled, somehow he knew he'd go back to Baltimore. And Hopkins had accepted him.

So when he'd been expelled from Hopkins, he'd decided to stay in Baltimore. Why not? It wasn't like he had anywhere else to go. He sure as hell wouldn't have gone to his parents' house.

But now, it would change. No matter what he decided to do, he'd have to leave Baltimore.

Bascombe was just visiting Baltimore. If he signed the record deal, Greg knew he'd have to move to New York or L.A. And if he decided on medical school, he'd be living in frigging Montana.

So his choices were:

Move to one or another of the most exciting cities in the world, play music, take drugs and get laid by lots and lots of women.

Or go to the middle of nowhere and back to school, then spend the next few years of his life working like a madman with no sleep to spend the rest of his life working with sick people.

This should be an easy decision.

Then why wasn't it?


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Eventually, Greg left the harbor and wandered back to Pete's. He saw that Andy was taking a break. He was sitting at a table with a sandwich in front of him. For some reason, Greg decided to walk over.

Sam looked up from his dinner at the young man who was dropping into a chair next to him. He didn't say anything, just stared for a few minutes.

Greg swore under his breath. "Go ahead, browbeat me some more."

"Looks like you've been browbeating yourself."

Greg stared at the table and took a deep breath. "Becoming a doctor would be really hard work."

"Yes, it will."

"Becoming a musician is easy. Hell, I'm already a musician."

"That's true."

"Becoming a doctor is hard. A lot of years of work. I don't even know if I can cut it."

"You don't."

They were silent for a time, then Sam said, "But being a doctor is important and it's what will make your life complete."

"How do you know that? How can you tell me what will make my life complete? I'm not even sure I still want to be a doctor."

"Are you sure you want to be a musician?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe? That doesn't sound very sure to me."

"I'm sure that I want to make a lot of money without working my ass of for it. I'm really sure that I can get a hell of a lot more tail as a musician than as a doctor."

"Is that what matters in your life? Money and women?"

"Uh, yeah."

Sam thought for a moment, then picked up his sandwich and took a very large bite. A really large bite. Instead of chewing it, he attempted to swallow it whole. Of course, he started choking.

Greg stared at him and watched as he coughed and then couldn't cough and his face got red.

"Oh shit!" Greg said, then got up, went behind him, put his arms around his chest and pushed hard with the heels of his hands. The food dislodged almost immediately.

Greg sat back down, glowering. Sam coughed a few times, wiped his mouth with a napkin and smiled at Greg.

"You just saved a life. How does it feel?"

"Bullshit."

"How does it feel?"

"You weren't even really choking!"

"You can't know that for sure. You still rushed to save me. How does it feel? How would it feel to do that all the time?"

Greg continued to glower at him. Then he got up and walked away from the table.

Sam watched him go and sat back, hopeful at last.

"It still might not work, Sam." Al told him.

"I know."

"And you could have killed yourself. What if he didn't know the Heimlich?"

Sam shrugged. "I had a feeling he did."

"Well, what if he didn't want to help you?"

"He's a doctor. He had to help me."

"He's not a doctor yet."

"Yes, he is. In his soul, he's a doctor. Always has been. Always will be."

Greg spent the rest of the time before he started playing just sitting at a table and thinking. Andy's little trick was so transparent. But it had been effective. He'd felt a surge of adrenaline when he did the Heimlich. He hadn't felt so energized since he'd left school.

His decision was getting clearer and clearer.

As he sat there, he watched Harley breeze in. She was smiling and full of excitement. This could change her entire life. But would he really be doing her a favor by accepting the contract?

She'd quit her job and put all her hopes on a music career. Yet, Bascombe had said –and he knew himself – that she really didn't have what it took to be a star. She might spend a few months doing background work. She might even luck herself into a one-hit wonder. But then, where would she be? Out of the music business, but still trying to cling to old and faded dreams.

Wouldn't it be better for her to face the facts, keep her steady job, maybe go back to school?

She came over to him and kissed him on the cheek.

"Harley, we have to talk."

"What?" She asked brightly.

He took a deep breath, then said, "I'm not taking the deal."

"What? Why not?"

"I'm going back to medical school."

"Medical school? When the hell were you in medical school?"

"Up to few months ago."

She looked incredulous. "I don't understand. You have the chance to become a star. Why would you want to go to medical school?"

He knew he had to finally say the words. "Because I don't want to become a star. I want to be a doctor."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. But if you're going to be stupid, fine, go ahead. I'm still taking the deal."

Now came the hard part. "Harley, there is no deal with out me. Bascombe only agreed to take you if I signed."

"What are you talking about?"

"He doesn't think you have what it takes to make it. He was going to hire you as a background singer if I agreed to sign. But that's all. He's not offering you a contract."

"You're lying! Or," she amended, "He's lying. He just told you that to get you to sign. He figured that was the only way you would do it."

"I don't think so."

Her face hardened. "You don't think I can make it either, do you?"

He didn't answer.

"I'll show you! I'm going to go see Mr. Bascombe myself. He'll give me that contract – one way or another!"

"How will you get it? By sleeping with him?"

"If I have to. Don't you understand? That doesn't matter, it's not important. Having something in my life that means something does."

"You can have something. You have a job, work at it, get a promotion, hell, get a better job."

"No one will hire me. I bluffed my way into Sears only because they were desperate. I never even graduated high school."

"So go back. Get your GED. Go to college. You're young. There's a lot you can do with your life."

"Yeah, right. I only know of one way to get where I want to be in life. It's the only way that ever worked for me. You may not understand it, but this is my life. So, goodbye, Greg. Go be a doctor. I'm gonna go be a star."

She stormed out.

Greg went to the bar to talk to Andy.

"Guess you heard that."

Sam nodded. "Yeah. You're doing the right thing."

"Am I? Maybe she will have the chance to be a star."

Sam glanced briefly to his right, then shook his head. "No, she doesn't. Even if she sleeps with him, he's not giving her more than what he told you he would do."

Greg nodded. It was pretty much what he thought. "What will happen to her?"

"I don't know."

"Come on, you knew all that other crap. Don't tell me you don't know this."

"I don't. There's no information on Harley James."

"What about me?"

"You become a doctor."

"What else?"

"I can't tell you that, Greg. You need to live and experience your life, good and bad."

"It would be easier if I was forewarned."

"No, it wouldn't."

"Well, I'm telling Pete that this is my last night. I need to be in Montana by the 15th. I'm packing up my shit tomorrow and buying a bus ticket. It's gonna take a few days to get there. So, I guess this is the last time I'll see you."

Sam nodded.

Greg looked at the floor for a few moments. "Thanks."

"No problem."

He nodded and walked back to the piano. Sam watched him, smiling.

"What does happen to Harley? Any change?" he asked Al.

"Well, they don't find her body. But there's no other information about her."

"So maybe she doesn't kill herself?"

"No, all that means is that she isn't found. It doesn't mean she doesn't do it, only that they don't find her."

Sam grimaced. "And Greg?"

Al punched the handlink. "He becomes a doctor. A very brilliant doctor. He's not a man prone to happiness, but as long as he has medicine in his life, he'll survive."

"Okay, then that's good." He turned to Al once more. "What about Andy?"

"Nothing you can do for him. He still gets arrested and dies in prison."

"Maybe we can…"

"Sam, when he's arrested, he had just accepted a big shipment of cocaine. He was planning on selling it at a junior high school. If he doesn't' get arrested, do you know how many kids he'll kill?"

Sam frowned.

"He can't be saved, Sam. But even if he could, you don't have the time to do it."

"What?"

"Bye, Sam." Al said as he watched his friend turn into a shimmer of light.

**A/N: If you are only a Quantum Leap fan, this is the end of the QL portion of the story. The rest of it is House. But House fans, there are some more chapters with our favorite doctor. Enjoy.**


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Present Day – Princeton, NJ

Gregory House walked slowly through the doors of Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital as he did every day that he actually went to work. He was usually late and he was usually complaining about having to work. But deep, deep inside him, there was a part of him that was very happy to be doing this.

He sometimes thought about the music career that he'd been offered and turned down. It would have been fun. And the women would have plentiful and hot.

But would he have really made it big? And if he did, for how long? Would he have ended up on an episode of Behind the Music as a has-been?

Would music have ever filled his soul the way that medicine did?

He doubted it. And that was why he went to work every day. Because this was what he was meant to do.

House watched his team as they presented the patient and symptoms to him. Although he would never admit it to them, he loved watching as they made the discoveries that led to the diagnosis. It was fun. And it made him feel good too.

And he would absolutely NEVER admit that to them.

"Fifteen-year old girl, presents with…" Thirteen listed symptoms.

"Fifteen, huh?" House said. "Drugs or alcohol."

"Tox screen was clean for both." Taub told him.

"Sex, then. Check for STD's."

"We did." Chase said. "Nothing. And she's a virgin."

"Wow, just like you!" House quipped while the Aussie rolled his eyes. "Family history?"

"Single mom, never been married and Dad's never been part of her life. No genetic conditions that Mom's aware of. Hope had the normal kid stuff, colds, flu, etc." Foreman said.

"Hope?"

"That's her name."

"No wonder she's sick. She get all her vaccinations?"

"Yep, up to date on everything. Even got the chicken pox vaccine, so she never had them either." Taub added.

"Okay, run all the tests, rule out the usual suspects."

They started to leave, but he stopped them. "Any chance of child abuse?"

"Doesn't look like it." Thirteen told him. "Her mother—" she looked at the file "—Helen, is devoted to her. They seem to have a really great relationship."

"Isn't that peachy. Just remember nothing is ever the way it seems."

"Sometimes it is." Taub told him.

"And sometimes you're tall and have a little nose. Except when you don't. Okay, go, test."

They all left and he sat back in his chair. A new case. It was always exciting to start a new case, despite the complaints he made to Cuddy. That was just to keep her on her toes. He couldn't have her get complacent about him.

The rest of the day was spent with his team running back and forth with test results for him, exploring the patient's home, and all of the other fun things they did on a daily basis.

While they did, House did what he did on a daily basis: hide from Cuddy, bum lunch off Wilson and take a nap. But today, something was bothering him. He got a twitch every now and then. It had happened before. He wasn't sure why, but it usually had something to do when he thought about the events of May 1984.

It would happen unexpectedly. Someone would mention Montana and he would think about how Andy had connected him with the school he was finally able to get a medical degree from.

It wasn't half bad as a school. Small, but trying really hard to get the medical program off the ground. It never did. There were about four or five graduating classes – all on scholarship – before they decided to abandon it. Unlike him, most of the others that they accepted had flunked out of medical school and were only able to graduate because the school so needed some graduates. They were not the cream of the medical profession. He knew of many justified malpractice suits among the alumni.

But all that mattered to him was that he was able to graduate. And if Andy hadn't found the school, who knows what would have happened to him.

Or someone would talk about the Olympics and he would remember Andy's prediction about the USSR boycotting the 1984 Summer Olympics. It had been so weird the way the guy knew those things were going to happen. It still freaked him out after all these years and after trying his damnedest to logically explain it to himself.

There were other things too that reminded him. And when they did, he'd get this little chill down his spine.

But he didn't understand why he was getting it now. None of those things had happened. Still, it was there.

When the team came back with no answers, he sent them to check out the home. They came back with lots of information about the patient and her mother, but nothing about why the kid was sick.

The mother, Helen, was the manager of a local branch of a chain store that sold women's clothing. She'd been living in Princeton for two years with her daughter. Mom was involved in Hope's school, Girl Scout troop, sports teams, etc. And there was no trace of anything male in their apartment. No pills or condoms in the bathrooms or bedroom. If either mom or daughter were sexually active, they were very good at keeping it hidden.

When young Hope Vlaskovich started developing a rash on her chest, House decided he needed to see it himself. As he approached the room, he saw the teenager in the bed and a woman standing beside it, holding the girl's hand. Her back was to him, but she was slim, with very short dark hair.

"Who's that?" he asked Chase.

"That's Helen, Hope's mother."

He nodded, that little chill working its way down his spine again. He looked quickly at the last results they had and then slid open the door and went inside.

"Hi, I'm Dr. House. I'm going to look at your daughter's breasts right now, don't freak out on me."

He moved to the bed and examined the girl, oblivious of the look on the woman's face. He pointed out something on the rash to his team and they started working on her. When he looked up, he saw the woman was staring at him.

She looked shocked and was definitely speechless.

He glared at her and said, "I know I'm devastatingly handsome, but you're still allowed to speak in my presence."

She continued to stare at him. He gave her a withering look and left the room. She watched him leave, then whispered, "Oh, my God!"


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

The woman looked at the team. "That was Dr. House?"

"Yes." Chase replied.

"GREG House?"

"Yes." he said again.

"Oh, my God!"

"What's the matter?"

"N-nothing. I've met him before, that's all."

"I'm so sorry about that." Taub told her.

Later, when the team was reporting result to their boss, Taub mentioned, "By the way, the patient's mother said she knows you."

"Everyone knows me. I'm famous, didn't you know?"

"No, she said she met you before."

"Oh, well, when women get a piece of this, they can't forget it."

The team just gave him a blank stare.

House shrugged. "I don't remember her. And furthermore, I don't care."

The team sighed collectively and went off to try some other tests and treatments.

But after they left, House thought about the woman. There was something slightly familiar. And there was that tingle down the spine.

This was now a new mystery for him and he knew he wouldn't rest until he figured it out.

He tried to put it out of his mind as he avoided, then got caught and was forced to do clinic duty. A few stupid patients later and he was able to slip out.

He sought out Wilson to chat for awhile, but he was restless. The woman and the spine tingle kept bothering him.

He left his team to monitor the patient while he went home. After pouring a drink and grabbing a sandwich, he sat down at the piano and started playing. For some reason, tonight his musical taste ran to popular songs of the 1980's.

And that's when it hit him. He knew who she was.

He was going to wait until morning, but it really wasn't that late. And he really needed to find out now. He got in the car and went back to the hospital.

He got to the patient's room and found the teenager sleeping and alone except for Foreman.

"Where's mom?" he asked the neurologist.

"Hope's asleep, so she went to the cafeteria for a bit. Why?"

"No reason." he said as he turned and started out the door.

But Foreman intercepted him. "House, if you've thought of something, you need to let us know. Because right now, we're running out of options."

House looked back at the bed. "Any changes?"

Foreman shook his head. "Just slowly deteriorating."

The older man nodded. "I don't have any ideas. Not right now, anyway."

With that, he left the room and headed to the cafeteria. He looked around and found his quarry sitting at a table in the corner. She had a sandwich and a cup of coffee in front of her. She was sipping the coffee, but it didn't look as though she'd eaten any of the food. When he got to her table, she looked up at him.

His blue eyes were piercing. "Harley." he said simply.

She smiled. "It's been a long time since anyone has called me that. I wondered how long it would take you to figure it out."

He sat down across from her and looked her over. Her face was still pretty, though there were a few laugh lines around the eyes. She wore no makeup and her hair was very short, but the same dark brown he remembered. She was slim, but not skinny. She could probably lose about ten pounds, but she was far from fat.

"I'm a little confused. My team said your name is Hilary or Helga…"

"Helen." She told him. "Helen Vlaskovich."

"Right. Where did that come from?"

"It's always been there. That's my real name."

"Then where did Harley James come from?"

"My dad's name was James. He died when I was six. And he rode a Harley."

House nodded. "So, your daughter."

"She's not yours."

He gave her a look. "Well, unless you were pregnant for ten years, obviously. But whose is she?"

She lowered her eyes. "I don't really know. You know that when we knew each other, I was really careful about birth control. Then, after AIDS, I started using condoms. But one night I went to this party and got really wasted. I can't even tell you what happened. But soon after it, I found myself pregnant."

"That wasn't very smart."

"No, it wasn't. And I was so scared when I found out. I thought 'I can't do this. I'll have to get rid of it or put it up for adoption.' But I couldn't abort her. And the longer she grew inside me, the more I wanted her. I'd never had anyone in my life that really loved me or that I could love. I couldn't give up the only person that would.

"So, I actually took your advice. I went back to school and got my GED. Then I went to my boss and asked for a promotion and a raise. Eventually I got both and eventually I found a better job. I also found someone to baby-sit who didn't mind that I worked nights and weekends."

"And Hope was born. I named her Hope, because that's what she was, what she is to me. Hope that I can be better than I ever was. With her as my inspiration, I am. I'm now the manager of a retail store. When the chain opened a new one here in Princeton two years ago, they asked me if I'd move to run it. It was a great opportunity and Hope was okay with it. So here we are."

He shook his head. "I can't believe you're here Harley."

"I can't believe you're calling me Harley. No one has called me that in over fifteen years. When Hope was born, I put Harley and all her behavior behind me."

"All of it?" he asked with a smirk.

"Yes, Greg, all of it. I haven't been with a man since before she was born."

The shock on his face was comical to her.

She laughed. "I know, it's hard to believe. But being her mother meant more to me than any of that. Besides, I wasn't about to let some guy into my life that might hurt her."

"Well, you don't know that…"

"I never told you about my childhood. My dad died when I was six. When I was eight, my mom remarried. When I was nine, he started raping me. When I was twelve, he started bringing his friends in. And when I was sixteen, my mom found out and threw me out."

He hadn't known any of that, although he had assumed that she had a hard childhood to account for her behavior when they met.

"I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "It wasn't your fault. And you were the only guy I knew back then who treated me as a person instead of just a body."

"Not always."

"No, but eventually. And I really did appreciate it."

They sat silently for a few moments, reflecting back to that spring of 1984. He wondered if she realized that something was different then.

"Back then, in 1984, when we were together, did you think that something strange was happening?"

"Strange how?"

"I don't know. With Andy maybe?"

"Well, Andy was a strange guy. You know, especially then. I mean he was what he was and we all knew it. Then all of a sudden he got all moral on me. I didn't know where that came from. But after you left? He was even weirder. Asked me where you'd gone. He had no idea you'd left."

"He did? But he's the one that made me go back to medical school."

"Really? Well, he must have had amnesia or something, because he didn't remember any of it."

House thought about that and remembered how Andy had implied at that time that he really wasn't Andy. Not that that made any sense to him then or now.

"Whatever happened to him?"

"He got arrested for dealing drugs. He was murdered in prison."

"That's too bad."

"Not really. He told me he was going to sell a big shipment to the junior high. He wasn't a nice guy, Greg."

Even though House knew that was probably no more than the guy deserved, he still felt bad for him. If it hadn't been for him, House knew he wouldn't be where he was.

As he sat there thinking about all of that, he realized that she was staring at him.

"So, Greg, are you going to be able to save my baby's life?


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

"I don't know."

"You are known for curing people that no one else can cure."

"No. I'm known for figuring out what's wrong with people that no one else can figure out. Sometimes they're cured. That's always the goal. But sometimes they're not."

She was silent, staring at the uneaten food in front of her. When she finally lifted her head and looked into his eyes, her look was intense as she said, "Greg, I'm not trying to put any pressure on you and I certainly understand if there's nothing you can do to save her. I'm telling you this, so that you know that it won't have anything to do with you. But if she doesn't survive, my life is over. I will end it."

He frowned at her. "Seriously?"

She nodded.

"But, just because…"

"She is my life. Everything that I do, that I have done for the past fifteen plus years is because of her. If she never existed, I would probably already be dead. If she dies, there's no point to my life."

"That's ludicrous."

"I know. But it's the way it is. I can't even conceive my life without Hope."

"You must have friends."

"I do. None of them matter as much as Hope does."

"Boyfriend?"

She shook her head. "I told you, I haven't been with anyone since the night she was conceived."

"You meant that?"

She nodded. "Absolutely. Providing a stable environment for her is much more important to me than my own satisfaction."

"What happens when she goes off to college? Gets married? Moves across the country?"

She shrugged. "We'll see. Right now, my life is taking care of her. Nothing else. And as long as she is in my life, it doesn't matter where she is. But if she were d—not here, well, I wouldn't want to be either."

He stared at her some more, then nodded. "I guess I see. I'll do my best."

With that, he rose and left the cafeteria. She sighed and watched him go. In her wildest dreams she would never have imagined that the good-looking piano player she'd slept with a few times would hold her baby's life in his hands. Very ironic.

The next day, after a many frustrating hours of watching Hope crash and be brought back and getting nowhere with the diagnosis, House cornered Helen.

"Tell me something. Anything that can help."

"I don't know what to tell you. You team went through everything I know."

"Family. Any genetic problems?"

"I honestly don't know. My dad died when I was six. Never had a chance to discuss family illnesses with him or my mom either for that matter before she kicked me out at fifteen."

"How'd your dad die?"

"Car accident. Some kids were joy riding and not paying attention. They slammed into him."

"Did he black out first?"

"Not that I know of."

"And your mom?"

"I told you I haven't seen her in thirty years."

He was incredulous. "Not at all?"

"She threw me out because I was being raped by her husband. No, I haven't had any desire for a family reunion."

He nodded. "Okay, what about Hope's father?"

"I told you, I have no idea who he is."

"Go through that night for me. What do you remember?"

She sighed. "A coworker asked me to go to a party with her. I didn't know the guy having it, she did."

"Could he have been…?"

"No, he was a pig. I had no interest in sex with him."

He looked at her. "It wouldn't be the first time you did someone who was less than your perfect date."

She looked away. "I know." She said quietly. "But there was usually a reason for that."

"Like Bascombe."

"Yes, unfortunately, for all the good it did me."

He nodded. "So that night?"

"Well, there weren't many guys that were interesting, so I started drinking. A lot. The next thing I remember is waking up in the bedroom – on the floor – with my clothes off. It was almost dawn. I was alone, but I knew I'd had sex with someone. The, uh, physical evidence was there."

"And no one else was there?"

"Larry, the party host came in to chase me out."

"Any chance at all it was him? You said you don't remember."

"No, it definitely wasn't. I'd had sex with enough men to know the signals they give you after they've just done it with you. He would have liked to, but he hadn't."

"What happened then?"

"I got dressed, went home, threw up about a million times and swore I'd never do that again. Two weeks after that, I didn't get my period. One week and a home pregnancy test later, Hope made her presence known."

"You said you were drinking the night she was conceived. Drugs too maybe?"

"Maybe. Oh, you don't think that the drugs or alcohol could have…?"

"Not very likely. Unless you kept doing it while you were pregnant."

She shook her head. "No. I was still so disgusted after that night that I didn't go out or drink at all for a while. And once I found out I was pregnant and decided to keep her, I stopped it all immediately. In fact, I didn't have any alcohol until she was about eight years old. And that was only some wine at an anniversary party. Since then, it's only occasionally. I don't even keep anything in our home. I don't want Hope to be tempted to try it."

"You realize you can't protect her from everything?"

"Yes, but I can do the best that I can while she's young enough to still care about I say."

Next he walked her through Hope's activities for the past few weeks and tried to pinpoint anything at all that would account for her illness. But nothing popped out at him.

It was beginning to look as if he would not be able to save Hope Vlaskovich's life. Or Harley's either, apparently.


	15. Chapter 15

_**A/N: This is the last chapter. Thanks to everyone who's been reading and reviewing!**_

_Chapter 15_

Later that day, Helen was sitting in the lounge outside her daughter's room while House's team was running more tests. House wandered over and sat down beside her.

He wasn't quite sure what to say to her, but she broke the silence.

"So tell me about your life during the past twenty-five years."

He shrugged. "Not much to tell."

"Really? Nothing at all happened to you in twenty–five years?"

"Not really."

"Well, let's see, you became a doctor obviously. Are you married?"

"Nope."

"Have you ever been?"

"Nope."

"Girlfriend?"

"Nope."

She looked at him oddly. "Gay?"

He chuckled. "No. I lived with someone for a while. It ended."

"Okay. Can I ask about your leg?"

He shrugged again. "Happened a while ago. An infarction caused muscle death. A big chunk of my thigh is gone."

"Ouch."

"Exactly."

She thought about that a bit, remembering the young man that was always running around doing whatever he wanted. It had to suck for him.

She decided to change that subject. "Do you still play the piano?"

"Yeah. It's my way of relaxing."

"That's good to know. You were so good, I'd hate to think that you'd given it up."

"Do you still sing?"

"Other than lullabyes when she was a baby or very loudly in the car to embarrass her, no, not really."

He nodded, not sure if he should comment further.

"You don't have to say it. I know I wasn't star material. I accepted that a long time ago."

They were silent for a bit as he tried to figure out what to do next.

"Anything else you can tell me about Hope's activities? Anything that she might not be telling you?"

"No, of course not. She tells me everything."

He gave her a look. "No teenager tells her parent EVERYTHING."

"She does. We have a wonderful relationship."

"I'm not doubting that. I'm just saying, she probably hasn't told you everything."

"You're wrong."

He considered this. "Okay, then give me some time alone with her."

"Why?"

"To find out what she's not telling you."

"There isn't anything she's not telling me!"

"Good, then it won't be a long conversation." He could see her hesitation. "If you don't think there's anything, you won't mind me talking to her."

She sighed. "Okay, go talk to her. You won't find out anything."

"You better hope you're wrong. Because if I don't find anything, there's nothing more I can do for her."

He went to her room. His team was in there with the girl, but he signaled to them to leave. Once they were gone, he sat on the chair next to Hope's bed.

"So, Hope, why don't we chat?"

"What about?" She asked, confused.

"About anything you do and don't tell your mom about."

"I tell my mom everything."

"Sure you do. And I can run a three-minute mile. Come on, kid, you're fifteen. You're not supposed to tell your mom everything. What fun would that be?"

She bit her lip nervously.

Bingo.

"Look, I'm your doctor, so anything you tell me is privileged. I can't tell anyone else."

"You won't tell my mom?"

"Not unless your life is in danger or you tell me it's okay to."

She stared at her hands for a bit, then finally said, "It was no big deal."

"Right. Why don't' you tell me about it and I'll decide if it was a big deal?"

She shrugged. "The girls were talking about boys and their, you know, _**bodies**_. And I'd never seen, you know, _**it**_. You know?"

"I'm acquainted with _**it**_."

"Well, they thought it was funny that I'd never seen one, so they dared me to go into the boys' locker room and, well, look around."

"Okay, so you went into the locker room. What happened?"

"There was this thing lying on the bench and one of the girls dared me to pick it up. I didn't even know what it was. But I wanted them to think I was cool. So I picked it up. It was damp and it smelled bad. I didn't even know what it was. But the girls started laughing and said I was holding a jock."

He frowned. "You picked up some guys sweaty jock strap?"

"They said a jock. Is that what it's called? What is it for?"

"Guys wear them on that thing you've never seen so that you won't see it when they're running around a field."

"Oh. Oh! Ewww!"

"Exactly." He thought for a moment, then grabbed her hands. "Let me see your fingers."

He examined them, especially around the nails. He finally saw what he expected.

"There it is."

"What?"

"You bite your nails, don't you?"

"Sometimes."

"Lots of times. And sometimes you bite around it too and break the skin."

She nodded.

"That's how the infection got in. We didn't test for it, because it's not something that girls usually get."

"Will I be okay?"

"Yep. But you need to tell your mother that you're curious about boys. Much safer than sneaking around boys' locker rooms."

"I can't tell my mom. She wouldn't understand about boys. She doesn't like sex."

"Boy, you really need to talk to your mom."

He got up and left the room. The team was waiting outside. He told them that Hope had a fungal infection. They protested that they'd checked for infections, but then he told them the specific one to look for and how to treat it. With amazed looks, they went off to do his bidding and he continued on to the lounge where Harley was waiting.

When she saw him, she stood up.

"Well?"

"The good news is you won't be Hope-less. The bad news is you were wrong."

"She told you something that she's hiding from me? What?"

"You need to ask her that. But how much have you told her about your past?"

"Do you really think I'd tell her THAT? She's only fifteen!"

"You don't have to tell her everything. But she's afraid to talk to you about boys and that's not good."

"I've had to be father and mother to her. It's not easy."

"Of course not. You don't have the equipment to be her father. But she's curious and she's afraid to ask you questions."

She was silent. "Is she going to be alright?"

"Yes."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "I can't believe this. You know, when you told me you were going to be a doctor, I thought you were insane. Why would you give up music for medicine? But now, oh my God, I am so happy you did. You saved her life! Thank you, Greg."

She put her arms around him and hugged him. She felt nice in his arms.

When she pulled away, she was smiling. He smiled too.

"So," he said. "How about going out to dinner with me?"

The End

_**There is a slight possibility that I might do a sequel to this story. It's not formed yet in my head, but the seed of an idea is there. So if you're at all interested, put me on alert. Or just check FF whenever you can! Thanks!**_


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